


open flowers in the windy fields

by lilabut



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Mild Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-08
Updated: 2013-12-08
Packaged: 2018-01-04 00:20:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1074808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilabut/pseuds/lilabut
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Katniss decides to take Gale to the lake her father showed her, and teach him how to swim. In the end, she makes very different discoveries.</p>
            </blockquote>





	open flowers in the windy fields

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this over two years ago, but now that I have seen _Catching Fire_ , all my THG feels are coming back, so I'm going through all my fics from back then. 
> 
> This could be set before the first book, but wouldn't really makes sense there, so I decided to look at it as an AU where Katniss was not chosen at the Reaping.

**Open Flowers in the Windy Fields**

I can’t promise you that I will be the only one around

When your hope falls down

But were young

Open flowers in the windy fields of this war-torn world

[Hold on to What You Believe, Mumford & Sons](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0O6MLTSKITw)

The sun is shining so brightly in the crystal-clear blue sky that I peel off my hunting jacket only minutes after entering the scarce coolness provided by the cover of trees in the woods.

 

My steps are slow and deliberate on the dry undergrowth, the lack of rain over the last weeks leaving lifeless marks on everything that used to grow. As I retrieve my bow and arrows from their hiding place, I stuff my jacket there instead, knowing that carrying it around will just be obstructive.

 

The dryness in my throat, the raspy, sore feeling of my lips and the sunlight burning down onto the top of my head, my dark hair attracting the heat even more so, mingle with the unease alongside which I have awoken this morning.

 

Promising to take Gale to the hidden lake in the woods today had seemed like a good decision yesterday, but this morning, I suddenly feel something close to regret wander through my mind. Am I really ready to take Gale there?

 

I kept the spot a secret over the last years, a piece of memory so closely connected to my father that I could not bear bringing anyone else there. Sometimes, when I sit by the edge of the lake, my palm flat on the immobile surface of the water, I can almost hear my father singing, feel his hands guiding me through the dark, deep water.

 

But the lake's existence had slipped yesterday, after Gale – grey eyes wide with surprise – had asked how I learned how to swim. My explanation had been a slippery stutter, voice as dry as the almost empty stream.

 

Gale probably understood my unease the second I muttered the word _father_ , and he never pushed to get more information, just continued to empty our familiar bush from its berries, letting me talk as much as I dared to. Suggesting to take Gale to the lake had slipped past my lips before I even really considered the idea, but in that very moment, Gale's fingers brushing my own as he handed me the berries, it had seemed like the right thing to do.

 

Will the meaning of the lake change when I take someone else there? When I share its beauty with someone other than my father, or – these days – the memory of him? Will memories of him continue to flash gently in my mind when I share our secret?

 

I shake my head, gripping my bow securely between my fingers, and continue my sure, steady steps through the forest.

 

“Hey, Catnip!” Gale's voice echoes through the quiet forest, and I can just barely make him out about fifty yards away, half-hidden behind a dead bush, waving at me.

 

He, too, apparently took off his jacket to endure the insane heat, but unlike me, he has it wrapped around his waist, a tight knot formed over his lower stomach.

 

I smile and wave at him, walking just a bit faster in his direction as he approaches me.

 

“We might as well just melt,” he jokes as we meet in the middle, the undergrowth crunching beneath out feet.

 

“Yeah,” I sigh in response, wiping my sweaty forehead with the back of my hand. It's a burning heat.

 

“I doubt we'll make much game today. Everything with a sane mind is hiding,” Gale mutters, the concerned look on his face mirrored in mine as I nod slowly, “But you said there's plenty of fish in that lake, right? Maybe we'll have some luck there.”

 

“Maybe,” I agree, “It's pretty shady there, as well, so we might even find something decent to trade later.”

 

“Great, let's go.”

 

Gale smiles at me, and I see the tension in his eyes. He must know what a big step this is for me, what the place I am about to take him to means to me. We never really speak about our fathers, or about how we feel without them. But, somewhere inside of me, I am sure that Gale must feel just as lonely and lost, even though he is older than me.

 

After all, he suffered the same loss. As we hike through the woods in silence, both of us keeping eyes and ears alert for some stray animal that dares to step out into the sun, I begin to wonder if Gale has a secret spot as well, or a special place filled with memories of his father. I do not have the courage to ask, and it seems like the wrong thing to do, especially today.

 

“How far is it? You only said it's quite a hike,” Gale asks after an hour of silence, without even the tiniest clue of life around us.

 

“A few hours. I'm guessing three. Maybe more cause we're not very fast today.”

 

The heat is hard on both of us, sweat covering our faces, my shirt clinging tightly to my skin, my skin itching from the heat, and breaths coming hard and with a burning, dry sensation in my throat.

 

“Hurry up then, Catnip,” Gale says with dramatic enthusiasm, grinning brightly as he begins a light jog, slipping past dry branches skilfully until he brings a few yards between us.

 

“You're scaring everything away,” I call out, trying to downplay the grin that spreads on my face.

 

No, it can not be wrong to take him there. He is the only person, apart from my little sister, who truly knows me inside and out, who is watching my back, helping me, supporting me, and makes me laugh at the same time.

 

He deserves me sharing my secret with him more than anyone else.

 

.

 

The heat of noon burns down on us relentlessly as we finally - legs numb, bodies sweaty - step into the clearing-like space that holds the clear, immobile lake, the concrete house and the scattered ruins of the past.

 

As I promised, it is relatively shady here, and Gale holds on tightly to the game bag that holds a rabbit I managed to shoot only a few minutes ago.

 

We both stop walking beneath the cover of a huge tree, and Gale drops the bag and loosens the jacket from around his waist until it lands in the ground, as well.

 

I try to make out his face from my peripheral vision, not daring to turn my head in his direction. The wonder and astonishment in his widened eyes speak for themselves, and my heart beats a little faster as I roam my own eyes over the quiet, peaceful scenery in front of us.

 

I was afraid of losing the connection between this place and the precious memories of my father, but now that we are standing here, I try not to think about my father too much, about the afternoons we spent here together, the firewood we collected, and the broom he made for me, both still hidden inside the last standing house.

 

Gale and I are here together now, and I want this to be our moment, a new memory, not heavy with grief.

 

“What do you think?” I ask quietly, dropping my bow and arrows next to the game bag against the tree trunk.

 

Gale does not answer immediately, his gaze still focussed on the calm lake only a few yards away from out feet.

 

“It's amazing.”

 

It is the first time since we met, running into each other in the woods years ago, that I witness Gale pretty much speechless, his words a mere whisper, astonished and unbelieving. I smile slightly, just a twitch of my dry lips as I sit down on the green grass, protected from the burning rage of the sun, cool and soft beneath me.

 

Unlacing my boots, I watch Gale, see his neck bending as he notices the ruins, the foundations of houses that used to stand here in the past.

 

“Take off your shoes,” I say as I slip my own off my aching feet, stripping off my socks, as well.

 

Gale turns around to look at me, something glistering in his grey eyes. Curiosity. Wordlessly, he drops down on the grass next to me, beginning to unlace his own shoes.

 

Watching his fingers quickly open the knots, I let my feet brush over the cool grass, soothing the aching soles from hours of hiking over dry undergrowth.

 

“Why were there houses here?” Gale asks as he slips off his second sock, pressing his own feet deep into the soft grass.

 

“I suppose people came here to fish,” I suggest, never really knowing an answer to the abandoned, destroyed buildings that must have a long story behind them, “Maybe people even lived here. A long time ago.”

 

After my last words are spoken, we fall into another silence, nothing but the gentle rushing of the tree above our heads and our still laboured breathing disturbing the silence of this place.

 

“What do you think it was like? A long time ago? Before… Panem?”

 

I am used to Gale's complaints about the Capitol, about the way our world is. But his hesitant question is unexpected and I am unprepared.

 

“I don't know,” I answer quietly, trying to make out the meaning of the worry lines on Gale's face.

 

“I think it was better than things are now,” he says with his usual determination, palms flat against the grass to hold himself upright.

 

“Maybe,” I respond carefully, “But if it was better, then why did it fail?”

 

Gale shrugs, and I know that this discussion is over, that the last words are spoken. A few seconds later, Gale sighs, pushing himself up on his feet.

 

“I bet the water's warm,” he says with a smile, reaching out his hand in my direction. I hesitate for just a second before I take his hand and let him help me pull me onto my own feet.

 

“I'm sure it is.”

 

We stand next to each other, and suddenly I am aware that Gale is still holding on to my hand, the calloused palm wrapped around mine. A strange flutter in the pit of my stomach confuses me, but it feels wrong to just drop his hand. Somewhere inside of me, I have to admit that I do not _want_ to drop his hand at all. That it feels strangely comforting wrapped around mine, fingers brushing my skin.

 

“Let's try,” Gale suggests, the grin on his face leaving me in doubt whether or not he is really aware of our intertwined hands, or the shiver that runs down my spine, the nervous flutter in my stomach, or the unsteady beating of my heart.

 

He starts walking towards the edge of the lake, a mixture between sandy earth and gravel forming a frame around the water's edge. My bare feet stumble a little as Gale urgently pulls me forward, until we reach the water.

 

The gravel digs into both of our bare feet, and the small stings feel like shards of glass against my sore feet.

 

“How deep does this get?” Gale asks, looking at me questioningly.

 

“It's only flat for about two feet or so, then it drops pretty quickly. But don't worry, it's safe here,” I assure him, taking a step forward so my feet sink into the lukewarm water of the lake.

 

The soothing effect of the water is immediate, and I smile brightly at Gale, nodding my head to urge him on.

 

He looks a bit hesitant as he takes a slow step towards me, our hands still intertwined. The second his foot dips into the water, I can see his features relaxing, and he quickly steps in fully, standing next to me.

 

“This is better than a bath,” he says amused, grinning, watching at our feet, strangely twisted from the water covering them, “And really warm.”

 

“Probably only here, though. The deeper it gets, the colder it will probably be,” I explain, waving my free hand loosely in the directing of the lake in front of us, immobile, peaceful, dark and glistering in the sunlight.

 

Suddenly, I feel Gale's hand leaving mine, and when I look at him, he is reaching down, pulling his pants over his calves.

 

Understanding what he is doing, I mirror his actions, letting my fingers dip into the water for a while before pushing the material of my pants to my knees.

 

“Be careful, though. It drops pretty fast. Test with your feet first,” I advise him, not really sure if I am strong enough to pull him out of the water should he slip.

 

Gale nods, taking a careful step forward. I follow him, the water covering our ankles now, small waves, insignificant disturbances that our steps cause, dance along the newly exposed skin of my leg, and I dig my toes deeply into the sandy earth underwater.

 

“Wow, it does drop fast,” Gale says as he takes another step, the water now swallowing up half of his calf, and as I step closer to him, I feel the bunched up fabric of my pants at my knees soak. Sometimes I forget how much taller Gale is.

 

Gale turns to look down at my legs, seeing that the water has already reached my clothes.

 

“We better not go any further,” he says, lifting his right leg to let it float in the water, drawing circles, patterns, upsetting the surface.

 

“Why?” I suddenly ask, enjoying the water cooling my overheated skin. The urge to just jump ahead, disappear in the dark, cool, soothing lake is dangerously irresistible, and I smile brightly at Gale's confused expression.

 

“It's dropping too fast, I won't be able to stand for much longer.”

 

“Then swim,” I state bluntly, shrugging my shoulders.

 

“You know I can't swim,” Gale answers, eyeing me with concern as if the sun shining on my head all day has rendered me temporarily insane.

 

“I'll show you how.”

 

The situation reminds me of the moment by the berry bush yesterday, when I had suggested taking Gale here without really considering the idea. Offering to teach him how to swim might be a bit too much for me to promise, but it feels so incredibly right to have him here with me, that I want to share everything this place has to offer.

 

Gale's eyes widen for a second, before he merely laughs awkwardly.

 

“I'm serious,” I say, taking a step closer to him, my pants soaking more and more, “It's not really difficult, and it's warm, so we'll get dry in no time. Plus, it can't hurt being able to swim.”

 

Gale eyes me shortly, his gaze flickering between the serious expression on my face and the pitch-black water ahead of us.

 

“Guess you're right,” he finally mutters in agreement.

 

“Okay. Better take off your pants and your shirt, it's harder to swim with so many clothes on,” I explain, and as soon as the words slip past my lips, I feel the blush tinting my cheeks fiery red. I had not considered this. My enthusiasm with swimming had somehow made me forget what it required.

 

“Okay,” Gale simply agrees, and I hope that he does not notice my burning cheeks. He walks back towards the edge of the water, his hands already pulling his shirt over his head. The black material lifts slowly, revealing his back to me inch by inch, before he tosses the shirt onto the grass, hands reaching for the button of his pants.

 

I know I should be doing the same thing, but my feet seem interwoven with the earth I'm standing on, the water keeping me back, eyes fixed on the olive skin of Gale's back, the dip of his spine, his strong arms flexing as he opens his pants. Only now do I notice the tingling sensation in my hand where he had touched me, and I am suddenly longing to reach out and run my hand over his skin again, feel every ridge of muscle, every dip, every rise and fall.

 

Something is different, and I can not figure out what and why. I have seen Gale without a shirt before, on hot summer days like this in the woods, letting it dry when it got wet from the stream. But it had never had this effect on me before.

 

Following the movement of his arms, I realize that Gale is about to take of his pants, and suddenly I panic, blood rushing wildly through my veins, heart pounding violently in my chest.

 

With a loud splashing sound, I rush towards the edge of the lake, the water suddenly feeling like a wall of concrete hindering my legs from walking. Gale only throws me a short glance before pushing his pants down his legs, and I quickly distract myself by gripping the hem of my shirt between my trembling fingers and pulling it over my head.

 

I keep my eyes closed for a second longer than necessary, tossing my shirt in front of me, hoping it will not land in the water, before my fingers slowly make their way to my belt.

 

“You're not going to let me drown, are you?” Gale suddenly asks next to me, and I turn my head to look at him, a grin on his face, but his eyes somehow focussed a bit too strongly on my eyes.

 

My own only flicker to his bare legs shortly, his strong thighs, more olive skin disappearing beneath his shorts, his abdomen and chest, and broad shoulders. I can see him swallowing, quickly looking at his face.

 

“Of course I won't, “ I laugh, almost a giggle, trying hard to downplay my embarrassment as I unbuckle my belt and open the button of my pants. The zipper feels heavy as I pull it down, hands pushing my pants over my hips and down my legs, stepping out of them, throwing them to the heap of clothes on the grass.

 

My hands fumble nervously in front of my bare stomach, and I do not dare to look back at Gale. I might have seen him shirtless before, but he never saw me that way, never like this. I just want to run and disappear into the dark water, hiding everything below my neck. But I know that is not an option.

 

“So, how are we going to do this? Not just jump in, right?” Gale asks, and I can hear his voice cracking slightly, but quickly regaining its usual confidence. Taking a deep breath, I finally gather the courage – or the dignity – to turn around and look Gale in the eyes.

 

Again, he seems to be staring at my face too intently, his hands are balled into fists at his sides.

 

“No, no, just…Let's go back to where we were,” I explain, nodding my head in the right direction.

 

“Okay.”

 

Slowly, still carefully, we walk back into the lake, letting the water swallow us, until my knees are back underneath the surface.

 

“So,” I say, trying my best to keep my voice steady and ignore the nervous flutter in my chest, “I guess I'm just going to show you, and then we'll take you a little deeper and you can practise the movements, okay?”

 

I look back at Gale, his black hair shining fascinatingly in the sunlight. Why have I never noticed that before?

 

“Sounds good,” he says, nodding. I take a deep breath, turning my head away from him and focussing on the water instead. The serene lake is too inviting, and for a split second, I forget the inhibitions that cause my entire body to tremble. But as I take a step deeper and the water's surface tickles my inner thighs, I am reminded that I am half-naked, and that Gale can see me.

 

Still, I take another step, the water reaching my underwear, soaking it immediately, and I quickly take another step, my stomach disappearing. Another step and the water reaches the bottom of my bra.

 

Suddenly, it feels much colder, soaking the fabric of my last remaining piece of clothing, and my body reacts on its own accord. Grateful that all that Gale can see is my back, I let my arms roam through the water, splashing my shoulders, taking a deep breath.

 

“Good. Now, listen,” I start to explain, turning my head enough to be able to look at Gale, but hiding the front of my body from him, “ It's basically pretty easy. It might sound complicated, though, but don't worry.”

 

Gale nods, taking a few steps closer, so he is waist-deep in the lake.

 

“Okay, try to look at what I'm doing,” I say, before leaping forward carefully, my entire body now engulfed in the cooling water.

 

I swim a few yards into the lake, enjoying the pressure of the water as I push through it, before I turn around and swim closer towards Gale, more confident now that I am mostly hidden underneath the water.

 

“Can you see what I'm doing with my arms?” I ask, exaggerating the half-moon movement of them.

 

“Yeah,” Gale says, eyes focussed, forehead wrinkled in concentration. It is the same look he has on his face when he is setting up a new snare, and I smile lightly before turning around again.

 

“Now, watch my legs,” I say, looking over my shoulder, trying to keep my legs as close to the surface as possible.

 

“Pretty much the same, right?” Gale asks, his head slightly tilted to the side.

 

“Yeah, and at the same time, that's important.”

 

For a few minutes, I continue to swim close to Gale, describing the movements of my legs, feet, arms and hands to him, encouraging him to take a step deeper into the water to get used to the feeling of it, answering his questions.

 

Finally, I slowly swim back towards him, feeling for the ground with my feet until I find it, stepping next to Gale.

 

“Okay, now you should try. Just the arms for now. Let's go a step deeper,” I tell him, and when his chest is half-hidden under the water, I can barely stand next to him.

 

“Okay, a half-moon like this?” Gale asks, spreading out his arms in the water and drawing the shape I had explained to him.

 

“Not quite,” I answer, walking as close to him as I can without tripping, “You have to turn your hands around like this.”

 

Repeating the movement, my eyes are focussed on Gale, the droplets of water on his chest, the glossy shimmer in his hair, his concentrated features.

 

“Catnip? Like this?” he asks, pulling me out of my daze. I try to refocus quickly, and observe the movement of his arms.

 

“Better, but not quite right. Wait, here, I'll show you,” I say, reaching out my hands to rest them on top of Gale's. Even underneath the water I am sure he can feel the shiver that runs though me, the goose bumps erupting all over skin as our bare arms touch, my midriff pressed against the side of Gale's stomach, the warmth of his body, the surprisingly soft skin against mine.

 

For a second, I attempt to just continue the lesson, show him the right movement for his arms, but the words will not leave my mouth, and my heart is beating so rapidly that I am sure it must cause small tremors on the water's surface. Swallowing, I turn my head to look at Gale, an inner-strength urging me on that I have never been aware of. Instinct.

 

He is looking straight back at me, his grey eyes darker than usual, intense, never faltering. And then his hands are moving beneath mine, twisting the positions until they rest on top of my skin, his palms slowly moving up my arms.

 

I shiver, almost losing my balance in the deep water, pushing myself closer to Gale to steady myself.

 

“Catnip,” he whispers, eyes still not leaving mine, as his hands reach my shoulder, turning me so I am standing right in front of him. But their path does not stop there. His fingers linger on my shoulders, tracing the straps of my bra, the dip of my collarbone, the hollow of my throat, and before I can fight it, a whimper escapes the back of my throat.

 

My eyelids flutter shut, and suddenly my forehead is pressed against Gale's chest. I can feel his heart beating as his fingertips travel up my neck, finding a spot below my ear that arouses another whimper, my arms reaching out to hold on to his arms.

 

Something instinctual takes over me again as his hands carefully cup my face, fingertips playing with my hairline, and I press my lips against his chest chastely, feeling him shiver beneath my touch immediately.

 

His reaction fascinates me, the effect such a light touch can have, and I do it again, more firmly this time, parting my lips slightly.

 

Gale groans very quietly, but I can still hear it, his hands dropping from my face, splashing as they disappear into the water, and I whimper against his skin when they find my ribcage, holding on to me tightly.

 

“Catnip,” he whispers again, husky and breathless this time, resting his cheek against the top of my head. It is such a gentle gesture compared to the tight hold he has on me beneath the water. I can feel his breath against the top of my head, can feel his heartbeat drumming against his chest.

 

I slowly let my hands begin to roam his arms, up to his shoulders, until they, too, sink underwater to wrap around his stomach and pull myself closer.

 

As I push myself closer, my chest meets Gale's stomach, and suddenly I feel him tense within our embrace. His head leaves mine and I look up in confusion, doubtful, not knowing what I did wrong.

 

But when I look up, the expression in his eyes tells me more than enough. I have never seen this look before, but something inside of me recognizes it.

 

And suddenly I, just like him, can feel my breasts pressed against him, the cold still affecting my body, although my mind has forgotten about it by now.

 

I swallow, still looking into Gale's hooded eyes, and I understand now more than ever before that he is older, that I am older than I was when I first met him, that the flutter in my stomach was not meaningless, that I – pressed against his body like this – mean more to Gale than I thought.

 

For a second, I consider moving away, but something keeps me close to Gale, and then I can feel his hands on my ribcage move gently, his fingertips brushing the underside of my bra.

 

I moan this time, quiet and weak, but it is still a moan, as his finger trail lines along the underside of my breasts. The first touch does not feel too different from the moment the water soaked the fabric of my bra, but the tingles that run through my veins now are unlike anything I have ever felt before.

 

“Gale,” I murmur against his skin, his name like a chant, heavy with a breath I held for too long. Something tells me _more_ and _higher_ and _please_ , but my lips can not form the words, my mind in a daze as my lips find Gale's chest again. Then, unexpectedly, as if he heard the longing desires in my mind, his hands move up, cupping my breasts, pushing against them carefully.

 

My fingers dig deeply into his back, and I am really holding on to him now, my legs unable to carry my weight any more. His husky sigh is drowned out by my throaty moan as his fingertips brush over the sensitive peaks, hardening even more beneath his touch.

 

“ _Gale_ ,” I whisper again, looking at his face, my cheeks flushed. He is still looking down at me, gentleness and urgency mingled in his darkened eyes.

 

Slowly, so slowly my heart starts pounding even more rapidly in my chest, the tension building like the electricity in the clouds during a thunderstorm, he leans down towards me, his hands running back down, over my stomach, to my arms, fingertips trailing up my skin again, until finally, Gale's lips brush against my forehead lightly, his palms cupping my face again.

 

“Maybe you can teach me how to swim some other day,” he murmurs against my skin, his breath fanning over the wet mark his lips have left, and I faintly nod, hands roaming across the soft skin of his back, inhaling his scent, eyes closed.

 

This can only be right. The tingle, the flutter, the rush of warmth, the feeling of skin against skin. As we slowly loosen our embrace, both smiling slightly, but genuinely, I know that we will come back. That I will teach Gale how to swim.

 

Our hands intertwined just like before, we slowly walk back out of the water, sitting down on the grass in the sun next to our clothes, and as we sit there, looking at the flawlessly blue sky, the heat of the sun drying our skin, I know that I still have my best friend and my hiding place. That I lost nothing today.

 

Sighing, I lean my head against Gale's shoulder, trying not to worry about the small amount of food we will bring home, the disappointed faces of our families, the empty stomachs. For this one moment, I try to soak up the sun, Gale's arm wrapped around me, no sounds disturbing the peaceful silence except an occasional breeze, until my eyelids flutter shut.

 

All I feel now is the comfort, the breeze, the warmth. Gale mutters words into my ear that I can not understand, but I know he will be here nevertheless, holding me. Watching my back.


End file.
